


Swan Song

by dumbledearme



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Once Upon a Time (TV), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Crossover, Dumbledearme, OUAT - Freeform, Retelling, dfcrose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbledearme/pseuds/dumbledearme
Summary: Instead of Henry, Hannah Mills, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming was adopted by Regina Mills and raised in Storybrooke.This is a retelling of Once Upon A Time (because I miss the show and just wanna have some fun with the story). The differences vary because of semi-original characters such as Hannah and Flynn Rider.





	1. Act I—The Dark Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to OUAT. 
> 
>  
> 
> “The swan song is a metaphorical phrase for a final gesture, effort, or performance given just before death or retirement. The phrase refers to an ancient belief that swans sing a beautiful song just before they are to die, having been silent during most of their lifetime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been subjected to changes. I suggest it to be read again before moving on.

At first, I found nothing out of the ordinary. To my childish eyes, it certainly made no difference the oddities of my everyday life. I can’t tell you when I started to notice that things weren’t quite right with the people around me; one day, it just dawned on me—that lonely feeling of being the only one who can see the truth and still not quite understand it.  
Children don’t grow up. Not like me. When the grownups see me about, they often have that same surprised reaction, like it’s the first time they are seeing me properly, like it took them this long to notice the changes about me.  
“Dear God, girl, you’ve grown!”  
“Hannah banana, look at you, you’re so big!”  
“Won’t you ever stop growin’, lass? Ha ha!”  
The aftermath of that is the inadequate feeling I get, like I’m doing something wrong. Like there is something wrong with me. Like I am the strange one. I grow up when others don’t. I change while everyone else stays the same.  
It can drive you crazy.  
September 2nd. Never fails to arrive. It is my mother’s birthday. The Madam Mayor is thirty-five years old. Every September 2nd. Of every year. I started to notice that when I was seven, and to comment on it, but Regina only gives me that look that says I’m losing my mind and she’s not quite sure how to deal with it.  
“I turned thirty-four last year,” she tells me but we both know that isn’t true. She can’t stand the heartbreak that gives me—the lies—so she turns away and avoids talking to me until I’ve decided to let the subject go. But however gullible I try to be, the truth still haunts me because I get to remember her turning thirty-five again and again and again.  
Regina is not all bad, I don’t think. She isn’t around much anymore, but when I was young, when I didn’t notice the inertia around me, we used to do everything together. She read me books and sang my lullabies. She took care of me whenever I was sick and not once did she complain about my moods. It was only when I started questioning her that she drew back, that she pushed me away.  
We barely talk anymore. She denies my accusations with such skill I always end up doubting myself. Maybe there is something wrong with me—maybe I am crazy. I got mixed up. I can very well repeat the lies my mother tells me until it becomes easier to just believe it and to forget how eerie life truly is in Storybrooke.  
When I was eight, I begged Regina to take me on a trip. “Anywhere,” I told her. It didn’t matter. I just knew I had to get out of Storybrooke for a while. I had to be away from those people frozen in time, doing the same thing every day like it was their first time at it.  
Regina did everything to try and change my mind. But I was decided. I needed a break. Regina, of course, refused so vehemently that I was forced to think she had another reason for not wanting to leave Storybrooke. It couldn’t be work; it is a small town, they would survive a few days without Madam Mayor. But Regina didn’t give in and turned snappy whenever the subject was brought up again.  
It was then that, alone in my room, I sat in front of the computer and googled ‘Storybrooke, Maine’. There were no results. It is a small town, but it isn’t possible that there is absolutely nothing about it out there. No records. No prints. It’s like it doesn’t exist. And for a moment back then, I remember I started to panic.  
What if it doesn't exist? What if my life is a lie? What if none of it is actually happening? It is like being trapped inside a bubble, floating in outer space, just waiting for it to explode.  
That must be when I die. When there is nothing left.  
I have no one to talk about it either. I tried Regina, who once must have been my best friend at one point or other, perhaps my only friend. But Madam Mayor doesn’t tolerate children’s foolishness. She doesn’t tolerate curiosity, or stubbornness, or insistence, while I, on the other hand, don’t tolerate resistance, stubbornness and lies. We yell at each other and I would end up slamming my bedroom’s door in her face, and crying, and wishing I had been adopted by literally anyone else in the whole world, anyone as long as they don’t live in Storybrooke, Hell.  
Why can’t Regina believe me? I never found out. That might have been the real issue that estranged the two of us. All I’ve ever truly wanted was for someone to believe me. Someone to listen, to take me seriously. Someone who doesn’t exist in these parts. And there is zero hope of ever meeting someone new because nobody ever comes to Storybrooke.  
It’s like a curse.  
That’s what I believed at ten years old. But when I was twelve, I met a girl who was new in town. Lily. She was wild and strong, and had this really cool birthmark on her wrist in the shape of a star. She was the most interesting person I had ever known. She was everything I wanted to be. Lily would do what she wanted, never answering to anybody, never afraid of anything. She had come to Storybrooke in a bus from New York City. She was running away from her parents. She’d come from a home situation much like my own—adopted and misunderstood. Lily knew what it was like to live in a place where nobody cared about her. She knew what it was like to not fit in.  
Lily was the best friend I never had. After only five days of acquaintance, her adoptive parents found her and took her back to New York. Both of us tried to keep in touch for a while, but things got complicated. I tried to run away from home once, too, tried to go be with Lily in New York, but I can’t leave Storybrooke. The town itself won’t let me. The curse.  
It is my own personal bit of hell.  
It was around this time I started to have private sessions with Dr. Hopper. According to everyone, I am utterly crazy and I need professional help. There is something wrong with me after all. So Regina had to do something before the situation got out of hand. Like me, she knows the doctor can’t help, but I suppose we both realize this is better than pretending nothing is the matter.  
Some old wounds are opened when I visit with Dr. Hopper. He suggests that perhaps I am acting out because deep down I want to leave to go find my birth parents. He makes me ask painful questions aloud. Why have they given me away? Why have they given up on me? Why didn’t they want me? Why did they condemn me to a life of watching the clock tower needles that will never move? Who are they? And what did I do to be discarded like a sack of bad potatoes?  
The matter is taken with Regina as well. With every question, with every presented possibility, the edge between us grows, until there is nothing else between us except feign civility.  
I’ve only known one person in Storybrooke with whom I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to lie or be afraid that she’ll think I’m crazy. She doesn’t. Ms. Blanchard, the sweet school teacher, is who I go to whenever Regina acts less like a mother and more like an evil stepmother. Ms. Blanchard always knows what to say; she’s never too busy to help. She has the true eyes of a loving friend—she is a comfort, a reward, a privilege.  
When I was a child, she helped with stories. She would tell me of faroff kingdoms, magic spells, princes in disguise. Monsters and heroes. Fantastic lands. Things every little girl needs. When I grew up, her subjects became more honest. We discuss real things. Usually we end up talking about myself because Ms. Blanchard doesn’t know—or can’t remember—anything about her own past. That’s not surprising. Ask anyone here any personal questions and their minds go blank.  
I have given up hope that someday I’ll get to move forward. I have accepted my fate. Here I am: Hannah Mills, adoptive daughter, likes pianos and flowers, reads lots of books, is decidedly crazy and honestly a bit of a bore. This is who I am going to be forever.  
This is my curse.  
Unbeknown to me, however, things do start to change. With their arrival. The two dark strangers. Mysterious youths that comes to Storybrooke in old-school motorcycles that wakes up the whole neighborhood. They ask for rooms at Granny’s B&B. And they follow me with their eyes like they expect something interesting to burst out of me.  
They make everything change—and the clock’s needle finally moves.


	2. The Price of Gold

Ruby and Ashley are talking about boys. They are always talking about boys, I realize now that I am old enough to hang out with them. Problem is: the number of boys our age in town is very close to zero. So they always end up talking about Sean Herman, the son of a skunk who has gotten Ashley pregnant before deciding they should go their separate ways.   
Ashley is a pretty girl but very poor. She lives with a stepmother and two half-horrible-sisters. But the main thing about Ashley is—she’s been pregnant for ages. No, seriously, ever since I was born. I don’t know what it is she’s been carrying in her stomach for almost two decades—in fact, I’m not sure I want to find out—but I do know that whatever it is it’ll never be born. It is just one of the ‘frozen in time’ things around here.   
However, no one but me is aware of that. To them it has only been nine months. It is only I that have grown up watching the longest-standing pregnancy in the universe. Ashley and I sort of look alike: we’re both small with blonde hair, large blue eyes and that good girl face that means next to nothing around here since neither of us is considered a “good girl”; Ashley got into the trainwreck category with her teenage pregnancy, while I’m still considered an unstable girl.   
Ruby must have a category of her own. Tall, slim and beautiful, she makes boys and girls crack their necks for a good long look. Black hair that goes down to her waist. Brown eyes and thick red lips that makes people crazy. With her great boobs and her endless legs, she is considered somewhat of a homewrecker. But Ruby is funny and cool and she doesn’t give a damn to what people in Storybrooke think of her. A total diva.   
It’s late now; definitely way past my curfew. Still, I’ve decided it is preferable to face Regina’s wrath later than go home now while she’s probably still up and waiting for me. I lean against the peeled wall outside the library, sharing a soda with the other girls, trying to ignore the boredom of the night, thinking about how much of the same my sixteenth summer will be.   
Thinking about my upcoming birthday, it is impossible not to with for something great to happen. Something special… something…  
The sound of the motorcycles startle us. We move our heads to the right in synchrony, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever is coming our way. The noise has called a bunch of people to their windows, their faces mirroring the curiosity I feel. Mounting the bikes is two strangers in leather jackets and jeans. There really isn’t anything all that special about their appearances except that they weren’t expected; they are a surprise, they are new, absolute mysteries.   
Ashley, Ruby and I are mouth-opened.   
The bikers come to a halt before us, slowly removing their helmets so they can speak to us. They both have dark brown hair, but one of them is larger, stronger, and looks to be about twenty years old. The slender, younger one is closer to us and he sets his dark-green eyes on me when he says, “Hey there. Is this Storybrooke?”  
Although he is clearly talking to me, the three of us nod together, our shock too great for words.   
“Any place to get a room around here?” asks the other one, hiding a smile.   
Ruby is the first to recover, as is to be expected. “Uh… You’re staying then?”  
The two of them exchange a meaningful look before the older one answers: “That’s the plan. Just looking for a bed.” His words have a forced tranquility to it, as if he’s trying to sound nonchalant about it. I wonder if they don’t want to call attention to themselves. I feel sorry for them if that’s the case—they might as well have announced their arrival in national television.   
“Granny’s Bed & Breakfast is just up the road,” Ruby happily provides. She gives them that wicked grin she’s known for. Of course she’s glad to have them stay at Granny’s—that’s where she lives so she’ll get to see them ona daily basis for as long as they stick around. “Another two blocks that way.”   
Talk about second intentions...  
“Thanks,” says the dark-green-eyed stranger. I notice he is still looking at me and blush a little. Thank God is nighttime so he might not notice my embarrassment. The newcomers turn their bikes around, ready to go their merry way, when something urges me forward.   
“Wait!” I call, not sure where my courage comes from. “We didn’t catch your names.”   
The larger boy looks over his shoulder and answers with a grin: “That’s because we didn’t give it.” And they disappeared into the night without further explanation.   
“Wow,” Ruby breathes. I think she might be hyperventilating.   
“Strangers don’t come to Storybrooke,” I mutter to myself, frowning. Ashley and Ruby give me a funny look. “I’m going home,” I decide wishing them a goodnight and starting to make my way back to the mayor’s house. When people start looking at me like I don’t make any sense is when I remove myself.   
Of course Regina is waiting up for me when I arrive. Nothing gives her a good night’s sleep like yelling at me before bed. But tonight, I barely heard her bickering. My mind is far away.   
I want to know what those strangers are doing here. Does it mean something? Or is their presence fleeting, a teasing of sorts, like Lily’s, showing me what’s out there and then taking it away just as I start to get attached?  
I am sent to bed and gladly obey. I practically run upstair and cross my room to the window seat from where I look at the great clock tower.   
Certain as the sunrise, and for the first time in sixteen years, the needle moves.   
***  
Next morning, while I am getting ready for school, I hear the grinding noise of a motorcycle, too close to be anywhere but in front of my house. I run back to the window seat. There he is, yes, the dark-green-eyed stranger, looking up directly at me like he knew the noise would get my attention. I dash from my bedroom, through the corridor, down the stairs, across the foyer and out the front door, demanding to know what the hell he thinks he’s doing there at this hour.   
He climbs out of his bike, slowly, as if the short, blonde, angry teenager isn’t a threat. Calmly he pulls a screwdriver from his jacket pocket, knees on the asphalt and starts tinkering with something under his transportation. “Hey, blondie,” he says without looking at me. “Just fixing my bike.”  
“You were not,” I say, a little too defensively. “You were watching me.”   
That makes him glance at me, a dark eyebrow slightly raised. “Someone has a big sense of her own importance.”   
I feel my cheeks coloring. “Shut up,” I say quickly. “That’s not what I meant. What are you doing in Storybrooke?”   
“Just visiting,” he answers convincingly, but his eyes are no longer on my face.  
“That doesn’t happen,” I accidently say aloud. He looks at me again, unresponsive, and I decide to change tactics. I point to a wooden box that’s tied to his motorcycle, something I had not noticed until now. “What is that?”   
“A box.”   
I grit my teeth. My hand is itching to slap that arrogant tone off his voice. He is utterly annoying and something tells me he’s doing it on purpose to frustrate me. Confident, black-haired, easy-smile jerk. I decide I don’t like him one bit.   
“And what’s inside the box?” I ask, making a big show of pretending to be calm.   
“Something me and my friend need to do,” he says as he brings himself up and puts the screwdriver back in his pocket.  
“Didn’t you say you were just visiting?”  
“Doesn’t mean we don’t have something to do.” He mounts his bike and gives it a start, just as Regina is coming out of the front door. She is already giving us her control-freak-stare. She calls my name. “You better go,” the stranger says in what I classify as a patronizing tone of voice. I’m about to give a salty retort when he adds, in a much more natural tone: “Be prepared.”   
The warning makes me shiver like someone just poured cold water over me. I have no reply for that. I don’t even hear Regina marching towards me until the woman is standing in front of me. Luckily, the stranger has left.   
“Who was that?” Regina demands, but she sounds different. Puzzled. I shrug. “He was talking to you.”   
“I never got his name,” I admit, now feeling stupid for it. I look at my mother. She seems concerned. “What’s wrong?”   
Regina glances down the street where the stranger disappeared. “I don’t know. He looks familiar.”   
“Hmmm. Maybe he’s one of the victims in your path of destruction, mother,” I jeer. She doesn’t like that, but seems indisposed to argue.   
“Stay away from him, Hannah,” she tells me with firm, cold eyes.   
“Why would I do that?”   
“You’ll do that because I told you to,” she answers impatiently, and then Madam Mayor is off to terrorize the neighborhood.   
***  
Ruby, Ashley and I are having breakfast at Granny’s as it’s our custom. Ashley is a little down in the dumps which isn’t her usual self. She is always so hopeful, so faithful. In fact, as I look around watching the known faces of Storybrooke I notice that everyone seems in a different mood today. They wear different clothes, talk about different subjects, try different food.   
“Last night I felt contractions,” Ashley says, breaking me of my reverie, when Ruby inquires to her well-being, “and Dr. Whale said the baby could come any day now.”   
I don’t know much about babies, but I find that Ashley doesn’t look as excited to give birth after years of gestation as one would expect. I know it’s hard for her—being eighteen and pregnant—but as far as I know babies are supposed to make your life better, not miserable. I wouldn’t be so concerned if I were her, though, because her baby won’t be born any day. Storybrooke won’t let it.   
“That’s a good thing, right?” I try to lift her spirits. “You’ll finally meet him or her.” And I give her an encouraging smile.   
That has the contrary effect I’m hoping for. Ashley’s blue eyes fill with tears and she holds her breath as to not sob. Ruby puts an arm around her shoulders. “What is it, Ash? Don’t cry.”   
“It’s just…” Ashley gulps. “When the baby comes…” She shakes her head, unable to control her emotions. “No one thinks that I can do this,” she sobs. “No one thinks I can do anything.”   
That hits home. I know very well how that feels. No one thinks I can do anything either.  
“And maybe they’re right…” Ashley lets out a sigh so heavy it shakes the table. “Maybe I’m not what’s best for this baby.” .   
“No!” I say, a little louder than intended. “Screw that! Everyone loves to tell us what we can and can’t do. But screw them. You have to do what you think it’s best. It’s on you. My mom once told me… She said that people are always gonna tell you who you are. And you just gotta punch back and say ‘no, this is who I am’.” It isn’t something I do, quote Regina to people, but that is one of my good memories of my mom.   
Ruby smiles. “Yeah, she’s right. You want people to look at you differently? Make ‘em, Ash. Show them who you are. Show them you can do this.”  
Ashley stares at her own hands for a long time after that. When she finally raises her eyes, her expression hides something I can’t decipher. Like she is keeping something from me.   
“Do you ever wonder…” Ashley stops herself, trying to choose her words carefully, I presume. “Do you ever wonder who your real parents are?” She says this softly as if she fears my reaction.   
I’m used to this kind of questions by now. I get them all the time, especially from Dr. Hopper. “The right term is biological parents,” I tell her, almost automatically. “My mom, although a pain in my ass, is very much real.”   
“Of course. I’m sorry, Hannah. That’s not what I meant,” Ashley says quickly. “It’s just… Well, if I give this baby away like everyone expects me to do… I don’t want him or her to wonder who I am or… or why I didn’t want… why I couldn’t…”   
“She will wonder,” I say, eyes on my plate. I feel something odd inside of me and find I can’t look at Ashley. I’m wondering if this is what my biological mother looked like just before she gave me away. “No matter what. She can have the greatest life and still she will wonder why you gave her away. I’m not judging you,” I add, forcing my eyes to met Ashley’s horrified expression. “It’s just a fact. The question is always there in the back of my mind.”   
I can tell this is wrong thing to say. Ashley looks even more depressed. Ruby tries to change the subject, telling us about her misadventures. Ashley smiles a bit after that. My mind, however, is stuck in that unfortunate topic. Dr. Hopper brought it up a dozen times: do I really want to meet my biological parents? So far, I guess I didn’t. Of course I’ve always been curious, but Regina convinced me a long time ago that if someone didn’t want you, they didn’t deserve you wanting them. But after seeing Ashley so distraught… What if my parents had wanted me but couldn’t keep me? What then? Did it change how I feel about them? Is it enough to forgive them? Do they even need forgiveness?   
By night, I gather the courage to talk to Regina about it. I wait until she has finished eating to ask: “Do you know who my biological parents are?” I have the odd feeling I might have asked that question before, but I can’t remember if Regina has ever given me an answer. “Did you ever meet them?”  
Regina’s face immediately turns sour like she has sucked on a particularly acid lemon. “No,” she says briskly. “It was a close adoption. No interactions from either part.” She stands up and starts gathering plates.  
I need to take several deep breaths before asking my next question. “Would you… Would you help me find them if I wanted to?”   
Regina drops a fork dramatically. “Why are you doing this today?”   
“It’s just a question,” I say. “I’m curious. It’s not a big deal. I’d just like to know if they—”  
“They are the people who abandoned you,” she finishes for me. “What difference will it make knowing their names? I’m your mother. Nothing can ever change that.”   
I look away so she won’t see me cry. “I know, mom. I just think that it might be good for me to—”  
Again, she doesn’t let me speak. “Why don’t you let me decide what’s good for you, Hannah? That’s my job.” She sets the dishes inside the sink. “I’ll clean this in the morning. I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”   
***  
Ashley doesn’t show up for breakfast next morning. She doesn’t show up at work either. Nobody sees her the entire day. By 4 O’clock, I’m so worried I end up going to Ashley’s house, but her stepmother says she hasn’t seen Ashley since lunch. Apparently, she has packed her bags and left a little after that, which her stepmother considers a good thing.   
As I wander the streets trying to digest that, I bumped into the last person I expect to see in the sunny park of Storybrooke—Mr. Gold.   
What to say about him? The guy is creepy. He has the face of an evil gecko and he always looks at me like he knows everything about me, things I’m not even aware of. Everyone is afraid of him. And worse of all: he owns the town. There is even a rumour going around saying he has more power over Storybrooke than Regina.   
“Just who I was looking for,” he says to me and then adds, before I can answer, “I have a proposition for you, Miss Mills. I need your help to find you little friend, Miss Boyd.”  
I guess we’re way past creepy now. Ashley has fallen off the face of the Earth and Mr. Gold, of all people, is after her? What can he possibly want with a pregnant teenager?   
As if reading my mind, Mr. Gold says, “She’s taken something quite valuable of mine.” He keeps the accusation off his tone, trying to sound like a concerned friend. But he isn’t concerned. He is a hunter going after his prey.   
“Uh…” I try to step away from him. “Mr. Gold, why don’t you just talk to Graham?” Graham is the sheriff of Storybrooke. If something has really been stolen from Mr. Gold, he would press charges, wouldn’t he?  
“Because uh…” he hesitates, measuring his next words “She’s a confused young woman and she’s pregnant. Alone. Scared. I don’t have to tell you this, Miss Mills.” He makes a pained expression that doesn’t fool me one bit. “I don’t want to ruin your friend’s life. I just want my property returned.”  
This is getting weirder and weirder. “What is it?” I ask, frowning.   
“Well, one of the advantages of you not being the police is discretion, Miss Mills,” he says, his face contorting in a creepy smile (if you can call it that). “Let’s just say it’s a precious object and leave it at that. You’re friends with Miss Boyd. Find her. Convince her to return what’s mine and I won’t press charges. See, she hurt me physically.” He pulls his hair backwards so I can see a faint bruise on his forehead. “She could end up in big trouble.”   
That is crazy talk. Ashley can’t have done that; she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Yet he has physical evidence to support his claim. “When did that happen?” I gesture to the bruise.  
“Last night,” he tells me. “She broke into my store and attacked me. She was rambling about changing her life? It is so unlike her. Miss Mills, please, help me find her. She must’ve said something to you. Where she was going? Why?”   
“No,” I say, disappointed at myself. I can’t help thinking that if Ashley neglected to tell me something is because I didn’t make myself available to her. “She didn’t tell me anything. But I’ll look for her. Leave it to me, Mr. Gold.”   
He tries another smile; I wish he wouldn’t, doesn’t make him any less bizarre. “Great. Send my regards to your mother. And good luck.”   
As soon as he is out of sight, I rush to the first place that comes to mind—Sean’s house. Luckily—as Gold has wished me—Sean is the one who answers the door. “Hannah!” he exclaims, looking frightened. “What—What are you doing here? Did something happen?”   
He must think his baby has been born or something, the poor bastard. “Actually, yes,” I say, unsympathetically. “Something did. Ashley… She’s gone. She’s in trouble. I thought maybe she came to see you—”  
“My son doesn’t have anything to do with that girl anymore,” a harsh voice says from inside the house. Mr. Herman appears behind his son in the hallway looking unfriendly. “Whatever trouble she’s in, I’m sorry for, but there’s nothing we can do to help.”   
I make a face. I really don’t like this man. I’m pretty sure he is the reason Sean has broken up with Ashley in the first place. Well, he and Sean’s lack of guts.   
“Dad…” Sean starts to say. “Maybe we should help her look.”   
“It’s a waste, son.”  
“If you want to help me, I’d appreciate it,” I tell Sean. “If that’s what you want. Stop letting other people make decisions for you. If Ashley runs away with this baby, she’s gonna be in some serious trouble.”   
“She’s—She’s running away with the baby?” A glimmer of something crosses his eyes—something I can’t identify, but it gives me hope for Sean.   
“Yes.”  
“Sean.” Mr. Herman puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. “Inside. Now.”   
After a brief moment of hesitation, in which I speculate as to what his reaction will be, Sean makes the weak choice again and does as he father orders him. I roll my eyes. Boys can be pretty pathetic. .   
Mr. Herman stares at me, arms crossed over his chest. “If I knew where she was, I would tell you, Miss Mills. You know that. I went to a lot of trouble to get her that deal.”   
I blink, confused. “Deal?” I repeat, the word sounding strangely forbearing. “What deal?”   
“You don’t know?” It’s Mr. Herman’s turn to frown. “Ashley agreed to give up the child and she’s being paid very well to do so.”   
“She sold the baby?” I feel something awful clawing in my stomach. So that’s what Ashley is keeping from me. She knows how upset I’d be.   
“Oh, you make it sound so crass,” Mr. Herman says. “I found someone who’s going to find that child a good and proper home.”   
“And who are you to judge whether Ashley is capable of providing that?” I snap. There is a ringing in my ears.   
“Just look at her—a teenager!” he scoffs. “She’s never shown any evidence of being responsible. That’s how she got pregnant. How could she possibly know how to be a mother?”  
“You don’t need much to be a mother,” I say although, I guess, I don’t know anything about it.   
“You say that because you aren’t one, Miss Mills,” Mr. Herman echoes my thoughts. “And when it comes to that, you’ve had a pretty good one that can give you anything you want. I found someone who’s going to pay Ashley extremely well, someone who’s going to see to it that everybody’s happy.”   
“Except Ashley.”   
Suddenly it all becomes clear to me. The person who is behind all of that—Mr. Gold. I understood now the seriousness of Ashley’s troubles.   
They are great indeed.   
For nobody has ever broken a deal with Mr. Gold before. Nobody.   
***  
I run all the way to Granny’s looking for Ruby. I find her right away waiting on some tables. I grab her by the arm (Hey!—Ouch!—Hannah!) and push her behind the counter.   
“What the hell—?”  
“Why didn’t you tell me Ashley sold the baby?” I demand. The people in the nearest tables turn their necks to look at us.   
“Shhh!” says Ruby. “You can’t go around shouting these things, Hannah.”   
"So you knew,” I accuse. I already knew, or had my suspicions, but it still hurts me a little bit to have been left out. “She told you and not me.”   
Ruby has the grace to look apologetic. “It’s nothing personal, Hannah,” she says. “Just that… Well, you’re the mayor’s daughter. And, uh, with you being adopted and all… She just didn’t want you to think less of her.”   
“I would never do that!” I shout. More people look our way. I make an effort to lower my voice. “I’m trying to help her, Ruby. Do you have any idea… She can’t handle Gold on her own.”   
Ruby sighs. “Trust me, I know.” Ruby considers me for a moment before deciding to tell me what she knows. “She left town, alright? Said she was gonna try Boston. Thought she could disappear there. And just so you know, this is all because of you, okay, Hannah? Everything you told her yesterday? She wants to keep her baby now.”   
Inhale. Exhale. First things first. “How long ago did she leave?”   
"A few hours maybe. I don’t know. But if she thinks this is best who are we to—”  
“No!” I shout. “She can’t leave town. Nobody can. Bad things happen when we try, Ruby. We have to stop her before she gets hurt.”   
Ruby looks at me like I’m a lunatic, but agrees to come with me. She grab her car keys and we are off. Ruby drives fast, way over the limit. When we reach the town line, we catch sight of Ashley’s rented car by the side of the road.   
“I told you!” I moan. “Bad things happen when we try to leave!”   
Ruby steps on the break. I almost throw myself out of the car. Ashley is sitting on the grass, a little farther from the road, looking like she is in a lot of pain. She must have crawled all the way there after she crashed the car. From the look of things, she’s—  
“My baby,” Ashley sobs, rubbing her stomach. Her next words don’t make any sense to me. “It’s coming.”   
Ruby and I half-carry, half-drag Ashley to Ruby’s car. On the ride back, Ashley shouts, cries and moans, which only increases my anxieties. I don’t understand what is going on. She has been pregnant for almost two decades. Why would she have the baby today? Why now? What has changed?  
The answer comes to me almost immediately. The two newcomers. The clock tower. It is all connected, it has to be. If the clock tower moved it must mean that time has finally started to move forward. Which means today is the first original, unexpected day we have. Which means from now on people are acting of their own volition. Which means… everything is changing.   
“I can’t go back there!” Ashley shouts between intakes of breath. “Girls, please, take me to Boston! I can’t—”  
“We don’t have four hours to get to Boston!” Ruby says. “Your baby won’t wait!”   
“I can’t go back there,” Ashley keeps saying. “He’s going to take my baby!”  
“I won’t let that happen,” I promise her, knowing that I’m way in over my head. I look at my friend and I see that shadow of what might’ve been my own mother fighting to keep me with her, and I know that I will do whatever it takes to help Ashley keep her baby. “But you have to know what you’re asking for, alright?” I say. “If you keep this baby, are you really ready?”  
Ashley looks just as certain as I feel. “Yes,” she says. “I want my baby.”   
And so is decided.   
***  
Ashley gives birth to a healthy 6-pound girl. Ruby holds her hand the entire time. When I go to get Ashley some water, I find Mr. Gold waiting for me in the waiting area.   
“Why didn’t you tell me you were after her baby?” I ask wondering if my mom will understand if I kick Mr. Gold in the shins.   
Mr. Gold doesn’t seem affected by my accusation. “You know your friend,” he half-shrugs. “The hard life she’s got. Surely the situation must make sense to you of all people, Miss Mills. You are well aware of the good life adopted children can have.”   
I feel my heart beating in my ears. The nerve of the man! Maybe if I kick his walking stick he will fall face-first on the ground. “You’re not getting that kid,” I say. “It’s not yours.”   
“We have an agreement,” he says ominously, “and my agreements are always honored. If not, I’m going to have to involve the police and that baby is going to end up in the system. That’s an experience you’ve never had, thankfully for you, Miss Mills.”   
I gulp. I don’t like his tone. I don’t like him—not one bit.   
“Then make a deal with me,” I offer, my tongue seeming to have a life of its own. I have no control over my next words. “Ashley gets to keep her baby. I’ll do whatever you want.”   
For whatever reason, Mr. Gold seems very interested in my offer. His eyes widen and he gives me such a genuine smile he barely looks like the same person from seconds ago. It is as if me owing him something is extremely valuable, as if I can accomplish great things for him. He sees great profit coming from me.   
“Deal,” he says.   
I feel my fate being sealed and wonder if I have just made a grave mistake.


End file.
